Never shall I forget the effect of that moment. The vast building lay before me crowded with human beings to the roof, while the loud bray of the organ mingling its artillery of sound with the deafening peal of several hundred instruments was tremendous.
When I had sufficiently recovered from my first sensations of ecstasy, I looked towards the choir, hoping to see Ries or Spohr, both of whom were present, but I could not recognise them in the distance.
I had a very fine description of the Festival and the music—which consisted of selections from Handel and Beethoven—ready written, but I really feel that any attempt to convey the idea of this splendid spectacle, or my feelings on witnessing it, is altogether vain. In fact, the sensation of excitement with which I looked and listened was too great to permit of any permanent impression, capable of description, remaining in my mind. And I felt on coming out as if years had rolled over my head since the morning; for we measure time past not so much by the pleasurable or painful feelings which we have experienced during its lapse, as by the mere number and variety of sensations that have imprinted themselves on the sensorium....
There was little inducement to remain in Cologne when the Festival was over, so that having secured places in the steamboat for Bonn, we took our last look at the Cathedral by moonlight and returned to our beds. Next morning I was awoke by the most diabolical war-whoop that can be conceived, and on looking out from my window I descried the cause of my alarm to be a cow’s horn, blown by a person who might, from the length and breadth of his blast, have been one of the performers at Jericho. I found afterwards that the horn-blower was an emissary from the steamboat come to inform us that she was ready to depart, and would be under weigh in a few moments. After dressing rapidly, we soon found ourselves seated upon the deck: the air was calm—not a breeze ruffled the broad surface of the Rhine: it lay like a mirror before us, reflecting the tapered minarets and richly ornamented dome of the Cathedral, which glistened under the morning dew, like a vast globe of gold.
From the moment we left Cologne the scenery began to improve, and near Bonn it became really beautiful. The Rhine, from the bold and frequent winding course it takes, presents the appearance of a succession of small lakes. It is bounded by lofty vine-clad mountains bristling with tower and keep, while below are seen opening glens through which the small streams rush on, bearing their tribute to the father of rivers. The villages have generally a most picturesque effect as they rise street above street upon the steep mountain-sides, their white walls scarcely visible amid the trellised vines. And now as we passed along we could plainly hear the songs of the peasants breaking on the soft stillness of the summer morning.
After a four hours’ delightful sail we made Bonn in time for breakfast. The town itself has nothing remarkable except its situation in the valley of the Rhine and its being the seat of the second in rank amongst the Prussian universities.*
* It was established on the model of that of Berlin so
lately as 1818, and, except the University of Munich, is the
most modern of Germany. As early as 1777 we find an Academy
existed here, and in 1786 this became a chartered
University, of which, however, at the conclusion of the
French Revolutionary War no trace was left The number of
students, about one thousand, and the names of the two
Schlegels, Niebuhr, and Walther (one of the first anatomists
of Europe), attest sufficiently its present popularity.
The Cabinet of Natural History at Popplesdorf is justly
celebrated, and the collection of petrifactions is well
known to the scientific world by the valuable work of
Professor von Goldfuss (‘Petrefacta Musei Univ. Bonnencrio,’
&c) The library contains about 60,000 volumes, and includes
a most remarkable cabinet of diplomatic seals and records.
The Botanical Garden, which occupies upwards of nineteen
acres, is considered one of the finest in Germany.
We spent the entire of the first three days visiting collections, museums, libraries, &c.; and although Professor Goldfuss, our cicerone, is a very worthy and well-informed gentleman, yet I have no mind to make you more intimately acquainted with him, so that I shall at once invite you to sip your coffee with us in the garden of the University. Here all is gaiety, life, and animation, the military are seen mixing with the townsfolk, and no longer is there any distance kept up between professor and student. The garden was in olden times the pleasure-ground of a palace, once the residence of the Churfurst of Cologne, and still preserves much of its ancient beauty. The trees are for the most part of foreign origin, and formed into long shady avenues or dark sunless bowers, in each of which might be seen some happy family party enjoying their coffee, the ladies assiduously occupied in knitting and the men no less assiduously occupied in smoking. Occasionally the loud chorus of a Freischtitz air told that the Burschen were holding their revels not far off, while the professors themselves, the learned expounders of dark metaphysics and eke the diggers of Greek roots, did not scruple to join in the gaiety of the scene, and might now be observed whisking along in the rapid revolutions of a German waltz. By the bye, let me warn any of my male readers to beware how he approaches a German dancing party if he be not perfectly au fait at waltzing. It is quite sufficient to be seen looking on to cause some dancer to offer you his partner for a turn: this is a piece of politeness constantly extended to foreigners, and is called hospitiren; but indeed every spectator seems to expect a similar attention, and at each moment some tall moustached figure is seen unbuckling his schlager, throwing his cap upon the ground, and in a moment he is lost among the dancers.
It was already far advanced in the night and the moon was shining brightly upon the happy scene ere we turned our steps homewards, deeply regretting our incapacity either to speak German or to waltz.
The following day the Drachenfels was the scene of a rural fête, and thither we proceeded, and as the distance is only three English miles we went on foot. The road lay through a succession of vineyards sloping gently towards the Rhine, which is here extremely rapid. A sudden winding of the river brought us in sight of the mountain from base to summit. The Rhine here runs between the Godesberg on the one side and the Drachenfels on the other. The latter rises to the height of fifteen hundred feet above the stream, perpendicular as a wall, its summit crowned by a ruined tower. The sides are wooded with large white oak-trees through which the road winds to the top in a serpentine manner,—and thus as you ascend some new and altogether different prospect constantly meets the eye: at one moment you look out upon the dark forests and deep glens of the Sieben-gebirge, at another you see the river winding for miles beneath you through plenteous vineyards and valleys teeming with fertility; and far in the distance the tall spire of Cologne, rising amid its little forests of pinnacles, is still perceptible.